Coming Home
by Chelles
Summary: Returning to the life she left behind means seeing all those she loves.
1. Grissom

A/N: I've been holding on to this one for nearly a month at this point, but, after seeing some promo pics for season 9, I think it's time it was posted. This is a post season 8 fic, so anything through the finale is fair game.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this story!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Chapter 1: Grissom_

"Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the 'fasten seatbelt' sign as we make our final descent. Please return to your seats and stow any personal items that you may have taken out during flight. We'll have you on the ground in Las Vegas in about fifteen minutes."

Sara sat back in her seat, closing her eyes. Fifteen minutes. She only had fifteen minutes left to come to terms with all that she was about to face.

The fact that Grissom had called and asked her to come home was trivial. She would have done anything for him. No, it was the _reason_ he had asked her to return that was causing her so much pain.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of it. Warrick was gone.

Warrick. The man who did more than anyone to fight for the law, while sometimes fighting against it. The man who could be as much rogue cop as team rock. The man who had won her friendship during her first year in Las Vegas, and who had supported her through some of the worst moments of her life.

If only she had been there to support him through his.

The plane eased onto the runway, and Sara opened her eyes.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," the flight attendant said in what Sara considered to be an overly cheerful voice. "Local time is ten fifteen."

Sara blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from running down her cheeks. Her eyes were already red and puffy from crying on her way to the airport that morning. She didn't need to make it worse. She reached for her purse, hoping to survey and to correct the worst of the damage before meeting Grissom.

"Missing San Francisco already?" the woman beside her asked, giving her a look of motherly kindness.

Sara turned to her, trying and failing to smile. "No," she answered honestly, "not a bit."

The older woman fell silent as Sara pulled out a compact. She flipped it open, shuddering at the sight of her blotchy face. Sighing, she closed the compact and replaced it in her purse. Grissom had certainly seen her looking worse. He wasn't going to be scared off this time.

They finally docked at the gate and stood to deplane. Before leaving her seat, Sara's neighbor turned to her again.

"Honey, I don't know you or what brought you to Vegas," she said. "But, I can tell you that no matter what happened, it's not the end of the world. You just have to battle through to the light at the other side."

Sara nodded forlornly. "I will," she said. "We'll all make it through this."

_Well … all except Warrick_.

* * *

After she had left, Grissom had imagined Sara's homecoming a hundred different ways. In many of his fantasies, he had picked her up at the airport. But, never like this.

He parked his car in the short-term lot and turned off the engine. For a moment, he sat still in his seat and stared at the airport.

He wanted to see Sara. Desperately. But, in a strange way, he didn't want to see her. It was as if seeing her, knowing that she was home again, would make it _real_. It would mean that Warrick was truly gone, that she was home for his funeral, and that they would have to investigate his death.

Finally convincing himself that seeing her was more important than anything else, he left his car and went inside to baggage claim.

* * *

Sara made her way to baggage claim, half looking for the carousel that would hold her luggage, and half searching for the man who had promised to meet her flight. She was on the verge of calling him so they could play a high-tech game of "Marco Polo" when she heard her name.

"Sara?"

She turned and saw him for the first time in nearly seven months. He had regrown his beard and lost some weight, but what she truly noticed was the intense sorrow in his eyes. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. Tears, now her constant companion, ran down her cheeks, landing in the crook of his neck, where she had buried her face.

Grissom held her close, feeling the tears threaten to fall from his own eyes. He wasn't sure what made him want to cry more: that Warrick was gone, or that Sara was home. Tears of sorrow, tears of happiness … it didn't really matter. He needed the release that they would bring.

Sara pulled back to look up into his eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said.

Grissom drew a shuddering breath. "Me, too."

Sara touched his cheek, running her fingers over his beard.

Grissom looked down into her red-rimmed, teary eyes and thought that she had never looked more beautiful. Within seconds, he found himself mesmerized. "Sara," he whispered.

Her whispered name was all the invitation she needed. Sara leaned closer and gently pressed her lips against his.

It was Grissom who broke their kiss. He looked at her for a moment, cradling her face in his hands and brushing her tears away with his thumbs.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

Grissom kissed her once more, then released her. "Come on. Let's get your bags."

Sara nodded and let him take her hand to lead her to the appropriate carousel. They stood in silence as they waited for her luggage. Their silence continued as they walked hand in hand to the car, and even as Grissom loaded her suitcases into the trunk. It wasn't until they sat down in his car that he spoke.

"I missed you."

Tears welled up in Sara's eyes yet again. "I missed you, too. So much."

"I'm sorry that I had to call you back … like this."

Sara reached over and slid her hand into his. "I'm glad you called me. I would have hated myself forever if I hadn't been here."

Grissom exhaled slowly. "I couldn't protect him," he said. "I thought that I had, but …"

"It wasn't your fault," Sara whispered.

"I should have done a better job," Grissom insisted. "I should have listened when he said there was someone higher up involved. I should have found that person first. I should have kept Warrick safe."

"Hey," Sara said, grabbing his chin and turning it so that he was looking straight into her eyes. "Gil, you listen to me. _This wasn't your fault_. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

"How could I blame you?" he asked, frowning. "You weren't even here."

"Exactly. If I had stayed, things may have gone completely differently. Maybe I could have stopped Warrick from going to that club. From getting involved with Gedda in the first place."

"Sara, please … don't try to 'what if' this."

"Okay," she agreed. "But, if I can't, then you can't, either."

Grissom gave her a lopsided smile. "Okay. Deal."

"Good."

Grissom released her hand and turned the key in the ignition. "Let's go to the lab. I know a few other people who will be very, very glad to see you again."


	2. Nick

A/N: Thanks so much for all your kind words about the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one as much.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Chapter 2: Nick_

It was strange, really. If Sara had been asked who she was most excited to see upon her return to Vegas, she would have answered Grissom, closely followed by Greg. Her lover and her best friend were the two people she had missed the most during her time of soul searching.

It was odd, therefore, that she barely even saw Greg when Grissom took her to the lab. The team was gathered in the break room, watching the news report about Warrick's shooting. Grissom and Sara both stopped short in the doorway. While Grissom's steps were stopped by a strong sense of déjà vu, Sara's were halted by Nick.

He was sitting in the back of the break room, alone, his eyes full of tears as they stared at the television. Mindless of the exclamations and gasps around her, Sara pushed past Greg, Catherine and the techs, coming to a stop in front of the man who had been her first friend in Vegas.

"Nicky," she whispered.

Nick looked up at her. As their eyes connected, he lost his battle for control, and a sob escaped him. Sara knelt down to wrap her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Nick clung to her, sobbing against her shoulder.

When they finally broke apart, both wiping at teary eyes, they found that they were alone. Sara didn't know where the others had gone, and, truthfully, she didn't really care. She sat down next to Nick and took his hand. They sat together in silence for quite a while before Nick spoke.

"I guess it was his day to die, huh?"

"I guess so."

"Do you know where I was when it happened?" Nick asked.

Sara shook her head.

"In the diner. I was a football field away, but I couldn't get there fast enough. I used to run the length of a football field over and over again at practice after school, but I couldn't make it those hundred yards to save Warrick."

"Nicky, what could you have done?" Sara asked quietly. "The bullet went –"

"I know the technical details," Nick interrupted. "I know what the autopsy will find. I know what the official cause of death will be. But, Sara, I let him die. I let him leave that diner and walk to his death."

"Nick –"

"I stayed behind, Sara," he said, choking slightly on his words as new tears filled his eyes. "I asked him to go out with me, but he told me to stay and flirt with the waitress. He said he'd just go home and take a shower. And, I agreed. I didn't fight him, I didn't offer to go out with him again. I let him leave, because I wanted to flirt with the waitress. I wanted to get her number. I wanted … I was so stupid!" He slammed his fist against the arm of his chair.

"No, Nick," Sara said. "You couldn't have known. Okay? There's no way you could have known." She exhaled slowly. "I was asleep when it happened. Maybe if I hadn't been … maybe I would have thought to call him. Maybe, if he had been talking to me, whoever did this wouldn't have. Maybe they would have been deterred by the fact that Warrick was on the phone."

"How often does that happen?"

"How would we know? We don't get called to the scene when someone _isn't_ shot."

"Fair enough." Nick looked away from her. "Do you know what really kills me about all of this?"

"Tell me."

"I feel …" Nick swallowed hard, fighting for control. "I feel like I let him down."

"Why?" Sara asked, genuinely confused.

"He saved me," Nick said, a tear breaking free and sliding down his cheek. "He saved me, but I couldn't save him."

"What do you mean?"

"He saved me when I was buried," Nick said. He exhaled. "I know you all worked together. I know it wasn't just him. I know that no one could have done that alone. But, Sara, when the dirt was pushed away, it was Warrick's face I saw. It was Warrick who saved me from blowing out my own brains with that bullet in that gun. It was Warrick who –"

"It was _you_ who saved _me_," Sara said, grabbing his hand again. "Grissom may have been the first one I saw when I could open my eyes again, but I know that you were the one who found me in the desert, Nick. You were the one who doused me in water to try to bring me back. You were the one who talked to me, coaxing me not to let go. And, Nicky, if you don't think that made a difference, you're wrong."

"So, what are you saying, Sar? That I was saved and I saved you, so my karma was even? That it wasn't in my stars to save Warrick, too?"

"I'm saying, Nick, that we're a team. That we work together, and that we save each other. It's not always as dramatic as those two times, but we always pull each other up and get each other through. I can't count the number of times you or Warrick, or Catherine or Greg or Grissom or even Hodges, saved me from something that threatened to pull me under. This time … it was just the time that Warrick wasn't meant to be saved."

"It isn't fair, Sara!" Nick jumped to his feet and began to pace around the room. "Why did I survive and you survive, but Warrick …?"

"I don't know, Nicky," Sara said quietly, watching his progress back and forth across the room. "I wish I had an answer to that, but I just don't. All I can say is that the universe isn't finished with us yet. Warrick … maybe he had done all that he was meant to do. It was just …"

"His day," Nick finished, sitting down next to her again.

"Yeah."

Nick shook his head and fell silent. Sara sat next to him quietly, respecting his need for time to sort his thoughts. When he could speak again, his voice was small, lost.

"He was my best friend, Sara. How am I going to keep going without my best friend?"

Sara took his hand, holding it tightly. "You will keep going. We all will. Because, if we don't, we're letting Warrick down."

"Yeah," Nick sighed. "We have to find the person responsible for this."

Sara nodded. "It's what we do."

Fire jumped in Nick's eyes. "I'll tell you one thing, Sara. That person has sure messed with the wrong crowd. We _will_ make him or her pay for what happened to Warrick. There is no way I will let my best friend die for nothing."


	3. Greg

A/N: Thanks again for all the kind words. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Chapter 3: Greg_

Sara walked out of the break room, brushing her hand across her eyes. She had stopped crying before leaving Nick, but was sure that she still looked awful. Looking around at all the red-rimmed eyes that walked through the halls of the lab, though, she was sure that her own teary eyes weren't remotely out of place.

"Sara!"

She turned to see Greg running down the hall toward her. Her face lit up with a smile and she opened her arms. Greg crashed into her, grabbing her in a bear hug. He lifted her off the ground, swinging her back and forth. Even when he put her down again, he didn't let go. He held tightly to her waist, pulling back only enough to look at her.

"I missed you," he said.

"I can tell," she said, smiling up at him. "I missed you, too, Greggo."

He looked at the clock over her head. "Wanna go out for dinner?"

"Okay."

"Need to tell the boss where you're headed?"

"I should," Sara said quietly. "I don't want him to worry."

Greg nodded, finally releasing her. "We'll stop at his office on the way out."

They walked to Grissom's office, where he was staring at his computer screen. Sara knocked lightly on his open door as they entered the dim room.

"Hi," he said, looking up at them.

"Hi," Sara said. "Greg and I are going out for a bite to eat. I'll keep my cell on, so … if you need me, just call."

Grissom nodded. "Have fun."

"We will."

His eyes swung from Sara to Greg. "Take care of her."

Greg nodded, looking uncharacteristically serious. "I will."

Sara stepped closer to Grissom's desk. "Gil. I'll be fine."

He smiled slightly. "I just got you back, Sara. It's a little hard for me to let you leave the building."

She leaned across his desk and kissed his lips. "I'll be back in a couple hours. I promise."

Grissom touched her cheek. "Okay."

Sara smiled at him, then straightened up to follow Greg into the hallway. He took her hand and pulled her down the hall.

"What's the rush?" she asked, lengthening her strides to keep up with him.

"I wanted to get you out of there before Grissom changed his mind and made you stay," Greg replied as they walked out into the parking lot.

Sara made a face at him. "I left him for seven months without warning. I can understand why he's a little jumpy right now."

"Yeah," Greg said, opening the passenger door of his car for her. "I think there are a few other factors at play, too."

"Yeah," Sara agreed as Greg stepped around the car and climbed in behind the wheel. "There's that."

As Greg backed out of his parking space, he turned on the radio, blasting punk rock. Sara giggled.

"God, Greg, I've missed you," she said. "You're my favorite music buddy."

Greg grinned and turned the radio up all the louder.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked, nearly shouting to be heard over the music.

"Frank's!" Greg yelled back. "You need to go there – it's tradition!"

Sara laughed and sat back to enjoy the ride.

* * *

As soon as they sat down, Sara realized that going to Frank's was a mistake. Greg's mood had taken a downward spiral from the moment they walked through the door until he was sitting in silence, his face stony. Sara put down her menu and looked across the table at her friend, watching the shadows pass across his eyes.

"Greg."

He looked at her, fully seeing her for the first time since they had walked into the building.

"Do you want to go?"

"No," he said. "No. I need to be here. If I can't do this now, with you, when will I? I can't avoid driving past this diner forever just because …"

"Okay," Sara said.

Greg took a deep breath. "We were sitting right over there," he said, indicating a large, round table in the middle of the room. "Everyone was there. The whole team. Do you know how often that happens?"

"Not very," Sara acknowledged.

"I almost asked Grissom to call you, just so you could 'be there,' too." He shook his head. "Maybe I should have. Then, you could have talked to Warrick one more time before …"

"Warrick knew how much I cared about him," Sara said quietly. "I don't have any regrets or any last messages for him. It would have been redundant."

"Yeah," Greg acknowledged. He exhaled. "I was already home when I got the call. Catherine called me. She was … I've never heard her like that. Her voice … She just sounded so completely broken. She told me that Warrick had been shot and to get my ass to the scene." He paused. "I've never driven so fast in my life. And, the whole way to the scene, I just kept thinking, _this can't be real_. How could it be? Half an hour before, we were all here, together, alive and whole. We were teasing each other, laughing, celebrating our success. And, Warrick … Sara, I don't remember the last time I saw him look so happy."

"He's been slipping for a long time," Sara acknowledged. "Ever since he found out that Tina was cheating on him." Her eyes clouded. "If it hadn't been for Natalie, maybe I wouldn't have been so wrapped up in myself. I could see that he was hurting and I knew that his marriage was falling apart, but I couldn't get past myself enough to help him. Maybe if I had …" She shrugged. "I could have helped him find a few more happy days before …"

"You know, in all of this, the good part is that he was so happy," Greg said. "I know that he was smiling right before it happened. I know that he got to spend his last hours with us – his family. And, somehow … that's enough."

"It has to be," Sara acknowledged. "What else is there?"

Greg ran his hands over his face. "We've come a long way, Sar. We really are a family now, aren't we?"

She smiled. "We are a family, but I don't know if I'd say you've come a long way, Greg. To me, you'll always been the guy with the spiky hair and loud t-shirts."

"I was such a child when we met," Greg said, the twinkle in his eye belying his serious expression.

"You were such a _friend_," Sara amended. "I have always been grateful for your friendship."

Greg smiled. "I had a crush on you back then," he admitted. "I wanted to be your friend in the hope that it would get me something more."

Sara's eyes opened wide. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, well, Catherine told me the only way you'd go out with me was if you didn't know it was a date, so I tried to play it cool."

"Well, she was right on that," Sara said with a slight smile. "No offense."

"None taken." Greg smiled a bit sadly. "I realized pretty quickly that you had already given your heart away – and, that it took Grissom a long time to figure out what to do with it."

Sara shrugged helplessly. "You can't argue with your heart."

"No," Greg agreed. He stared at the table where he had so recently eaten with his team, then dragged his eyes back to Sara. "What's next for us, Sara? Where do we go from here?"

"I have no idea," Sara said. "But, nine years ago, would you have predicted that we'd end up here?"

"No," Greg said, shaking his head. "But, I can tell you one thing: I wouldn't trade a moment of it." He smiled sadly as he continued, "Up until yesterday, at least."


	4. Catherine

A/N: This one I'm not really sure about. For some reason, writing Catherine is a true challenge for me. So, I hope you like it.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Chapter 4: Catherine _

Walking down the hall in search of Grissom, Sara came upon Catherine. She was in the layout room, by herself, studying a man's shirt. Thinking that she'd find her fiancé later, Sara stopped to say hello.

"Hi, Cath."

Catherine barely glanced up. "Hi, Sara."

Sara stepped closer to peer over her shoulder. "What are you processing?"

"Warrick's shirt." The words were stiff, almost spoken as a warning. This was something that Catherine clearly wanted to do on her own.

"Can I help you?" Sara cringed at her own words. Pleading to be included? What was she doing?

"I don't think so," Catherine replied. She finally looked up. "You gave up that right when you left in November."

Sara had rather been expecting that comment, so she let it slide. She focused instead on the deep purple shadows under Catherine's bloodshot eyes and the lack of color in her cheeks. "Are you okay, Cath?"

"What kind of a question is that, Sara?"

"I mean … I know you're not okay. None of us is. Have you slept at all since …?"

"I don't have time to sleep, Sara. We need to solve this case. Every moment that passes is one moment less that we have to catch the person who did this to Warrick. And, I will find this bastard, Sara. Even if I don't sleep again until I'm 80, I'll find him."

"I don't doubt that," Sara said gently. "I just … I think that, if we work together, it would go faster, that's all."

Catherine studied her for a moment. "You left," she said bluntly.

"I –"

"You left Grissom," Catherine continued, anger finding its way into her voice. "Do you have any idea what you did to him?"

"I –"

"He was a mess, Sara! Working doubles and triples. Refusing to talk to us. I'm not even sure that he ate for the first couple weeks. Why the hell would you do something like that to him? Why would you break him like that?" Catherine's voice rose until she was screaming. "He gave his heart to you, and you ripped it apart, then tap danced on the pieces! The man practically died of pneumonia, and you weren't here to take care of him! My God, I walked his dog for him! Why weren't you here to do that? Why –?"

"Catherine!" Sara finally yelled, cutting her off. "Stop!"

Catherine stared at her, anger still snapping in her eyes.

"I know what I did was wrong," Sara said. "I know that I broke his heart. I know that I abused his trust. I know, okay? _I know_. But, I also know that if I hadn't left, I would have done far more damage to him. I know that he would have had to watch me fall apart. I also know that if I had fallen apart the way I would have if I had stayed, I would have been so broken that the pieces would never have fit back together again. So, as strange as it sounds, I did what I did to save Gil – to save us."

"Did it work?" Catherine asked. Her hand shook slightly as she ran it over Warrick's shirt. "Did leaving him help you? Did walking away from the man you love save you?"

Sara blinked.

"Did being that _selfish_ accomplish anything?" Catherine's voice became so quiet that she was nearly whispering. "Did missing out on time you could have – _should_ have – spent together solve your problems? Did … did –"

Her voice died as a choking sob shook her. Her hands flew up to cover her face, but it was too late. The first sob was followed by another, then another, until she was sobbing hysterically, bent almost double, clinging to the table to stay on her feet.

Sara, after a moment's hesitation, put her arms around Catherine. Catherine collapsed against her, allowing Sara to hold her up as she cried. Sara knew, had known from the first screaming accusation, that Catherine wasn't angry with her for leaving Grissom. She was angry with Warrick for leaving for leaving all of them – for leaving _her_.

"I'm so sorry, Catherine," she said, her own tears beginning to fall again. "I'm so sorry I left him. I'm so sorry I left all of you. I wish I could have stayed. I wish I hadn't lost a single moment with this family that we've created." She paused, then continued, her words just above a whisper, "I'm so sorry that I can't do anything to bring Warrick back."

Catherine continued to sob, muttering incoherently.

_Almost_ incoherently.

After a moment, Sara understood the soft words that she was repeating over and over.

_I could have given him my heart._


	5. Brass

A/N: Nick's chapter may have been the reason I started writing this story, but this chapter might just be my favorite. I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Chapter 5: Brass_

"So, what is this? I have to come all the way over here to see you? You can't come to PD to see me?"

Sara stopped her progress toward Grissom's office and turned to grin at Brass. "Hi, Jim."

"Oh, I see. It's just, _Hi, Jim_, as though she did nothing wrong." He smiled and gave her a hug. "It's good to see you, Sara."

"It's good to see you, too."

He motioned toward an empty conference room. "Wanna catch up?"

"Sure," Sara said, following him into the room.

"How have you been?" Brass asked as they sat down.

"Oh, fine," Sara said slightly evasively. She didn't want to get into everything that had happened since her abrupt departure. Not with Brass. Not yet.

"Grissom said you were with your mother?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah. I hadn't seen her in awhile."

"Well, I think it did you good," Brass said. "You've got some color in your cheeks."

"Are you trying to say that I used to look like death?" Sara teased.

"Oh, don't start that. I was never good at playing those sorts of games."

Sara smiled and squeezed his hand. "How have you been, Jim?"

"Well, you know," he said, spreading his hands. "It's been a rough thirty-six hours."

"Yeah," Sara acknowledged. "I'd agree with that."

"You know, this is the hardest part of this job. Losing your friends. Part of me always says that I shouldn't be friends with my coworkers. That I should just go to work and go home. That I should separate my work life and my social life. But, Sara, as much as I've tried, I just can't do that. We spend too much time together. We work too closely together. We get to know each other too well. There's no way we can help getting emotionally involved with one another." He paused. "There's no way to protect yourself from the pain of having to say goodbye when something like this happens."

"I just … I never thought something like this would happen. Not to one of us. Not to Warrick."

"No one ever expects it," Brass replied. He paused again, then smiled. "I'm glad you're back, Sara. We've missed you around here."

"I've missed being here," she said. "I've missed all of you so much."

"Grissom's been playing the tough guy, but I know he was miserable without you," Brass continued.

"Well, I was pretty miserable without him, too."

Brass leaned forward, his voice more serious than Sara had ever heard it. "Sara, he's really going to need you now. I was there when he got to the scene. I've worked with Gil for a long time, and I've never seen him like that. Thank God he called you right away, because if he hadn't, I would have. I would have told you exactly how much he needed you. Anything to get you on the next plane here. Because, honey, I really don't know how he's going to get through this. Without you here … I don't think he would have."

"I'll be here for him forever," Sara said. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm never leaving him again."


	6. Grissom Again

A/N: And so ends my story of Sara's homecoming. I hope you've enjoyed it. Thank you all for taking this journey with me.

I don't own CSI. Just as a fair warning, some of the inspiration from this chapter comes from the recently-released promo for the new season. But, to be honest, I doubt you'll really notice it – it's pretty brief.

* * *

_Chapter 6: Grissom … again_

After what felt like hours, Sara finally made it back to Grissom's office. He was still staring at the computer screen.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied, almost distracted.

"Okay," Sara said, coming around his desk. "What exactly has you so riveted?"

She stopped in shock as she looked at the screen. Where she had expected to see a scientific journal or a crime scene reconstruction, she saw pictures. Pictures of the team at work. Pictures of them at parties. Pictures of them out at various events. One picture morphed into the next as they scrolled across his screen.

"I needed to see us in happier times," he said simply.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I see."

He stopped watching the pictures and looked up at her. "Sara, what am I doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.

"I've been working at this job for more than twenty years. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could follow the evidence and use it to put together a picture of what happened in any given situation. It was like putting together a puzzle or solving a riddle. It was all a game to me. It was fun."

"You're using the past tense," Sara said, sitting down on his desk. "You don't feel that way anymore?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I feel. All I know is that one of my guys is dead, and I did nothing to prevent it."

"Gil, I already said –"

"But, it _was_ my fault," he interrupted. "As a supervisor, I'm supposed to keep my team together. I'm supposed to …" He paused, tears filling his eyes. "Warrick died in my arms, Sara. I begged him not to let go, but he did. And, there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"Gil, listen," Sara said, concern bubbling up inside her. "You're talking about two totally different things here. Warrick and your job are not one in the same. They –"

"Maybe they are," he interrupted. "Maybe …"

"Maybe what?" Sara asked.

He struggled to blink back tears. "Maybe, somewhere along the line, it stopped being about the _job_ and started being about the _team_. About the family. _Our family_. And, now, our family is broken … shattered. If I can't hold on to that … if I can't keep that together … then, what's left?"

"The rest of the team is left," Sara said urgently. "Catherine, Nick, Greg … they're your family, too. They still need you."

"I let them down," he said, quiet desperation seeping into his voice. "I … I can't …"

"Gil, you're not thinking straight," Sara said. "You love this job. You always have. You can't just –"

"Maybe I don't love it anymore."

Sara stared at him.

"Maybe it's empty now."

"Gil …"

"Maybe it's time to move on."

"What are you saying?" Sara whispered.

Grissom grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. "Sara, if I decide to leave this job … if I decide that I don't want to be a CSI anymore, will you still …?"

Sara leaned down and gently brushed her lips against his. "You are _you_, Gil, not a job. I'm going to love you no matter what. I'm going to marry you no matter what. I'm never going to leave you again."

He sighed, feeling relief seep through him.

"But, listen," she said. "I want you to think about this. Okay? You've had the most horrific, emotional two days I can imagine. Even longer, if you count all the time you put into clearing Warrick when he was framed. So, this is really not the time to make major life decisions. Okay?"

"You're right."

Sara smiled. "I know. I'm just glad you agree."

He kissed the hand he held in his. "Let's go home."

A jolt shot through Sara. _Home_. _I'm_ _finally_ _home_.

Grissom stood up, looking down at her with a frown. "Sara?"

She stood up and gave him a smile. No matter where they worked, no matter where they lived, for Sara, _home_ was always where Grissom was.

"_You're_ my home, Gil," she said quietly. "I love you."

"Sara …" Grissom pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "I'm so happy you're home. You … make everything right again." He brushed a kiss against her temple. "I love you, too."

_Fin_


End file.
